


this trivial thing called crush (and three other synonyms)

by konobiju (yuchee)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: 4+1 Things, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, I know you need to, Implied One Night Stands, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, let those feels out joker, they're both idiots, vague implications that persona universe exists in this timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25588594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuchee/pseuds/konobiju
Summary: goro akechi, akira kurusu, and the four times they were too dense to even realize the implications and the Important Things™ that they should know are going on between them (and the one time they do, but not at all, because maybe they knew, after all.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	this trivial thing called crush (and three other synonyms)

**Author's Note:**

> what is this. i don’t know what the hell this is. i’ve succumbed to writing these +1’s fics and i ended up becoming the sappiest i can be this year. god send help please
> 
> it’s full on out of character but then again it’s akira... maybe that doesn’t count at all... but hey in this house we let akira cry and feel things just as he should and as he deserves because wow that’s a whole lot of Feels right there my man 
> 
> i have no clue what happened in the end i literally don’t so i apologize for the rushed ending this was really just a word vomit of sorts. the prompt btw was crush so yeah hahaha
> 
> yell shuake with me on [twittert](https://twitter.com/kemonorui)

**1.**

Goro Akechi has had a rough day.

He recalls how the weather forecast earlier in the morning (to which the detective had listened to in his nearly sleep deprived state) didn’t mention  _ anything _ about an upcoming torrential rain, as far as his memory serves him, and he can also recall how there was no one in the train nor the underground walkway carrying umbrellas, unless, of course, they were in their bags. The case assigned to him by the investigations unit involved a businessman’s stolen employee cheques, all missing from his office when he opened up their company’s unit not too long ago, CCTV cameras under maintenance, and Goro’s never been more puzzled because  _ what, _ exactly, could someone gain from stealing employee cheques unless they were looking for more things to be convicted of (aside from robbery, it’s a bank crime, it’s fraud, it’s…)? 

The detective is fully soaked in rainwater and exhaustion the moment he steps inside the ever-warm feeling that is Cafe Leblanc. He squeezes the remaining bits of water that his hair managed to seep in, and his eyes immediately go to the shadow of the figure descending down the cafe attic’s stairs.

Akira Kurusu looks at him with a disappointed face, which Goro only replies to with a shrug, and the younger boy approaches him with a towel in one hand and extra clothes in the other. The older boy would probably muse over the fact that Akira kept banana-themed pajamas, much more about the fact that Akira had probably rushed up there to get all these…  _ utilities _ for him the moment he saw him outside the establishment's doorstep, but his nose was stuffed and his voice was probably going to need a minute or two before it could say anything comprehensible. 

“You do know the morning weather forecast is almost inaccurate when climate change is a thing and how it’s literally summer.” Akira tells him as he leads the drenched boy to one of the stools, this time by the recently used and warm coffee siphons instead of the usual makeshift bookshelf by the other end of the table. Goro remembers the boy’s persisting belief about how summer is a season full of mood swings and the severe need to change the expected weather. “Do you want some coffee? It’s on the house.”

Goro resists the urge to sneeze. “No, I-  _ ah- _ I would… rather pay. Don’t worry. I’d like my usual, please. Extra warm, if you-  _ ah… _ don’t mind. Sorry.” He responds with an awkward smile, and he covers his face with the towel Akira lent him as he let out a small sneeze.  _ Let’s hope the germs don’t stay too long on the towel. _

“Hey, Akechi,  _ er… _ ” The now-barista seemed to be having a hard time talking, Goro takes note, but before he could voice out his concern Akira continues to speak. “You should probably change clothes if you don’t want to get sick. I’ll have your cup done by the time you’re out and ready. Feel free to use the attic… or the bathroom, I mean. Totally fine either way.” 

“I truly appreciate all this, Kurusu. Thank you so much.” Goro lets out, accompanied by a sigh of relief, and turns to meet with Akira’s eyes. 

Underneath the nearly dim light of the retro-esque cafe, the brewing scent of coffee strong around them and the pitter-patter of the raindrops from outside, Goro wonders if the other boy could hear the suddenly loud thumps from his chest, only the small voice inside him wishing he could read the answer through those eyes that never do tell enough.

Much to Goro’s dismay, he’s  _ yet _ to uncover what this mask of his hides.

“You know…” Akira begins, looking up from his arms placed on the table as Goro tilts his head in reply, “...you don’t always have to thank me for all this. I like hearing it, of course, but, well… don’t you think we’re well past the formalities by now?”

Months of hanging around, jazz club or cafe or simply walking on streets, memories of jokes and fond recollections and nights were no words were needed to be said; Goro pretends they don’t flash on his mind, ignores the painful squeeze his heart suddenly made as he looks at the fascinating floor of the cafe’s interior.

“Am I now your routine, or something of the sorts?” Goro asks, and Akira’s mouth forms a small surprised expression, and the detective’s glad he asked.  _ Adorable. _

“Yeah,” He looks at the floor too.  _ Interesting. Leblanc truly has such eye-catching floors. It must be why he’s looking at them the same way I am too. _ “You’re a routine. It’s never… really a day if it’s without you.”

Morgana stumbles from up the room above and the noise is soon succeeded by a loud meow. The two boys laugh as the cat comes down dripping wet and with an irritated expression on his face (or so Akira claims with his cat-translating skills, which Goro thinks isn’t too far from the truth because the boy  _ does _ seem to have too many similarities with cats), much like to that of the detective’s when he entered the cafe not even an hour ago.

“I’ll go change upstairs if you insist.” Goro says as he walks past Morgana, glancing back to see Akira’s eyes following him. “The rain… it surely doesn’t sound as though it will cease any moment now. Can I borrow a phone charger as well?”

Akira only shakes his head as he gets a towel from the kitchen counter to wrap the poor cat in. Goro doesn’t see his face as he carries the cat like a baby in his arms to dry his fur of water, but he can hear the smile that is so distinctly of his Kurusu, hear the tint of implicating something else, and see the way his movements become slower, more controlled,  _ softer. _

“Anytime.” 

The following day, Akira wakes up to a small thank you note ripped from one of the sheets of paper he has by his work desk, and he tries to keep his groan small as he reads its content.

_ I owe you for this. You’re rather warm. I am glad to be a part of your routine. _

_ (Dammit, Akechi, you  _ are _ the routine.) _

  
  
  


**2.**

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Like hell you weren’t waiting. We literally caught each other’s eyes earlier.”

Goro had quite the number of folders in his hand, all for a new case of a human resource management project gone wrong (what was the term?  _ Control loss? Misdemeanor?) _ , and he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be even meeting with Akira in… front of a subway bakery. 

Couriers were not available for the precinct to call for a rapid delivery, so they turned to the next best candidate they had around: young, physically fit, and a well-known coordinator. Goro had wished that he was average and stick-figured instead of, well, what he is, but it’s his job, and he can’t exactly say no to them nor to himself since he wanted to get the case over with and finally try the new crepe stand by Shinjuku Station. However, having caught the eye of a certain boy with a cat in his bag looking at bread, of all things, he decided to let his arms ache in favor of striking some small talk to someone he would call a-

“What are you buying that much bread for?” Goro asks, wondering what Akira would have so many bags of varieties of bread, almost equal to that of the files the detective was currently carrying. “I highly doubt you would have needed anything to eat for breakfast when you live in a cafe.”

“Can’t a man enjoy a little bread?” 

“Clearly not the point, Kurusu, but do as you please.”

Akira grins at him, and Goro was about to scoff it off as another one of the younger boy’s funny expressions, but he notices that it’s almost  _ forced, _ as though Goro could ask about anything but  _ why, _ he’d call it so… out of character for him, even, but maybe he  _ doesn’t _ really know the Akira behind all the pleasantries and meetings they’ve shared together, and Goro chokes trying to prevent the question that tries to let itself out his mouth.  _ Don’t make things worse for any of you. _

“Hey, what are you bringing so many files for? I’ll lend you a hand.” The boy tells him, and Goro simply lets him. He’s only a little thankful Akira knows how to stir away from the topic.

_ What are friends for if not for the little kindness we receive on a regular basis? _

“I’m on my way to a building not too far from the nearest exit of the walkway,” The older boy says. “After this, I’m free. I could watch you munch on your bread with Morgana.”

“Or we could head somewhere and be miserable together.”   
  


“What was the term?  _ That’s a mood?” _

Akira laughs. Goro’s been never delighted in himself even more. “Forgive me for apparently not being aware of slangs, Kurusu. You know I’m not that kind of person.”

“Excuse me?” Akira asks in his incredulous tone, one that rises by the end, one that Goro could relish in hearing knowing he’s amused the other boy somehow. “You literally use text abbreviations and you have an entire Twitter account. Don’t give me that.”

“To be fair, I only ever open Twitter whenever I have nothing to do. And abbreviations are convenient, Kurusu. Elementary by its concept.”

“Okay, Sherlock.” Akira deadpans with a thumbs up, the two laughing soon after the remark on their way to the company building Goro was playing delivery man for. 

“If you don’t mind me asking… Kurusu, where were you from before all that bread?” Goro slowly asks, wondering if the question truly did hold much weight or if Goro was simply overthinking. Akira blinks, and turns to face Goro with a small smile.

Then, “If it helps, you may lie.”

Letting Akira place his walls up knowing fully well vulnerability is anything but wanted for him is something Goro had always done for him. As the detective with his space, as with his Kurusu and his prison of a mind. Never would he dream of stripping Akira of his little, personal comforts, nor does he intend to,  _ never again, a small part of his mind suddenly exclaims, _ and Goro feels as though he’s stepped on unbreached and hostile territory.

_ Never again? _

“I came from school, then.” Akira smiles, and despite it being a Sunday, and despite the still visible tear tracks that stain his face, Goro finds it to be genuine, just like every other smile Akira’s shown him whenever Goro senses that he’s done something that’s brought Akira imminent relief. .

(Later, Akira tells Goro of the letter he’s received from his hometown, of wanting to stay in Yongen-Jaya and take care of Morgana and make Goro his coffee, of not wanting to leave at all, even with anything that’s left unsaid, and Goro takes his hands and leans forward to whisper in the younger boy’s ear, the breeze of the evening leaving them to huddle close for warmth, the desperate hold of Akira’s hands on his, the mere presence that is Akira Kurusu and his cat and bread,  _ “You are home, Akira. You are not going home because you are already home.”) _

  
  
  


**3.**

“Honey, I’m home!”

“You’re back awfully late.”

Akira grins as he lays down his school bag and takes the stool next to Akechi’s, giving Sojiro a meaningful glance, only to be responded with a small sigh.

“Alright, I’m going to be locking up early today, kids. I’ve got a meeting up ahead, so I’m leaving the cafe for your use. Got it?” Sojiro nods at Akira, and then to Goro. “I trust you to be the more mature one. Don’t let that boy get things into his head.”

“Hey! I’m literally about to become a third year student in a few months.” Akira whines and Goro stifles his laughter as Sojiro fake pouts and shakes his head at the younger boy in a mocking manner.

“Don’t have too much fun. I’ll go now.” The older man shuts the door on his way out, which leaves room for the two boys to notice that the television had been left open and was now replaying an exclusive interview by a popular talk show the famous detective prince Goro Akechi had just had earlier in the afternoon.

_ What nonsense was this again?  _ Goro tries to remember, even though every interview he attends is only to boost good points for the authorities he works with, which is why he rarely ever takes note of the details that come to him whenever he makes appearances like this.

“Hey,” he glances to his right to see Akira’s concerned look. “We can always turn the television off if you feel uncomfortable.”

“It was… quite a funny interview, actually.” Goro says, seeing the very podium he was standing on just a few hours ago, and looks at Akira with a grimace. “They had someone debate with me on a couple of matters. I believe they did  _ no shit.” _

“You mean they did  _ shit,” _ Akira points out. The man now speaking on television was the same debater Goro had mentioned, red-faced and loud-voiced as he tried to counter Goro’s arguments on live television.   
  
_ “...Certainly, but while the culprit could’ve obviously covered the tracks of blood on the carpet, he instead chose to have it remain there despite the odds of a murder actually having occurred because of a moved body and all, which leaves room for a better theory than yours: the culprit had wanted to throw everyone off by thinking the murder happened in the living room, when in fact the victim was murdered someplace else and was wrapped with the living room carpet to transport it to the bed. _ ”

_ “Ding ding ding! Goro Akechi is correct once again! In our crime mystery debate, the body was believed to be…” _

“You totally wrecked him!” Akira exclaims, laughing at Goro’s competitor who had his face hidden down and a hand through his hair. “Man, you’re  _ the shit.” _

“Is that a term I should make use of?  _ Shit _ seems to have a lot of modern uses I’m not aware of…”

They continued to watch the game show, which was really a Japanese version of  _ Whose Deduction Show, _ and Goro can’t help but grin childishly whenever he hears Akira’s objections to his rivals’ statements and his cheers whenever Akechi solves a mystery correctly.

“However hard those guys try, they surely can’t compete with the real deal that is the Second Coming of the Detective Prince Goro Akechi.” Akira beams at him, and Goro’s made aware of how close the two were sitting on moved stools, legs touching and faces near enough for the older boy to feel Akira’s excited breathing on his face.

“Despite having many people to try arguing with, I can’t say any of them has been anywhere close with my rival,” Goro begins. 

The younger boy tilts his head and squints at the detective. “You have a  _ rival?” _

“Yes, I do. I do remember how bold yet truthful he was with his statements despite being against those of mine, and on live television too, and even then, he still managed to leave an impression on me that made me feel… giddy. That feeling of finally meeting someone good enough to counter you, good enough for you to learn from.”   
  
“Suddenly I feel jealous someone could come close as to even having you feel giddy about arguing.” Akira sighs, eyes moving to his other side to look at once again Leblanc’s beautiful and exquisite floor. Goro resists the urge to smack the boy and to pinch his cheeks.

“I also remember telling him something that may have implied that he was the antithesis to my thesis, and that together, advancement is no longer just a fleeting goal.” Goro breathes out, and he watches the recognition of his words flutter into a light that makes his Kurusu’s eyes so hopeful and so…  _ him, _ a gleam that tells Goro everything and nothing he needs to know.

“A rival, hm? You think I can do better than all those randos you yell at on television?”   
  


Goro rests his head on the other boy’s shoulder, forcing down his migraine due to how nervous he was at the sudden pressure in the air around them. “You’re my rival, Kurusu. That makes you better than  _ everyone _ but me.”

  
  
  


**4.**

Nights are simply nights. They’re not made for things that aren’t meant to be said the following day, they’re not where his inner demons become strongest and where his body is weak and fragile, and most importantly, there’s not one rational reason as to why they’re always forgotten about the following day, but somehow even the dreams that Goro stirs to every night are only a vague mumble and a flash of color when he opens his eyes and is met with the ceiling above him, or the window sill next to his bed, or his room that’s devoid of anything but necessities.

He remembers nearly nothing - in his heightened, fever-like state, heat emanating from his body and Akira’s, the soft touch of skin on skin, so much warmth that Goro couldn’t move, much less even speak.

Goro looks to his side and sees an empty pile of blankets, the cold of the early morning prickles on his bare skin exposed to the air in the room, the windows open, and he tries to not let the realization get to him when he’s met aware of the fact that he’s ventured forth into the morning alone.

Just like the fleeting dream that doesn’t come back when he opens his eyes. Just like the height of happiness that crumbles down the moment it reaches its peak.

Just like Akira Kurusu, the boy who he convinces himself  _ it’s only a crush _ that should pass away any moment but doesn’t, always everywhere and in everyone he goes and meets, who he doesn’t hear from then onwards.

**\+ 1**

When Akira sees the familiar building in the distance, the rabbit-like pace of his heartbeat evolves to that of something faster, and he feels a bubble of guilt pop in his throat as he swallows down his surely shaky voice and clutches the bouquet he’s been walking around in town with, looking like a lost, forlorn lover on the streets of Shibuya, practicing his words with soft mumbles and loud thoughts and his eyes caught by nothing other than the clouds.

He leaves the morning he wakes up, knowing fully well that he had no choice but to return to the home he’d considered the best out of all the places that he’s found himself opening up in throughout the entirety of Tokyo. He leaves the flower shop he works in, knowing fully well it’s only for Goro to throw away and maybe even burn if he feels so. He leaves the familiar train platform and walks along familiar routes and streets, knowing fully well it may as well be the last time he walks around these corners.

Because  _ how hard _ it is to forget the boy that is Goro Akechi.

Because Akira Kurusu, in all his life, is  _ scared. _

He can’t wake up from that bed he made love on and only face the occurrence as some mistake that happened simply because it was  _ him _ who he had been with on that night. He can’t stay and then suddenly face the fact that everything else is all a result of his lovestruck fatigue, and how the soft  _ I love you _ he whispers into Goro’s ears are left unanswered by the older boy who simply wanted pleasure.

Akira Kurusu can only take so much.

And maybe he should’ve left it at that. A mistaken belief of  _ something. _ A mistaken belief of requited love, of an answer for all those months of waiting and playing, but a part of him still had the gall to hope that maybe, just maybe, Goro had hoped for something  _ too. _

When he knocked on the door to Goro’s apartment, he thought he had been too late.

But before he even begins to fall off the cliff to his impending doom, the door opens, and in reveals Goro, work clothes and ponytail and everything that makes Akira weak in his heart.

“Kurusu-kun,” the formality of his tone  _ hurts _ Akira, “How may I help you?”

_ Goro, burn these flowers and think of them as your dread, as my love, and as everything you’ve ever let into your heart. _

He brings the bouquet to Goro’s face, a mismatch of camellias and hyacinths and Akira’s desperation, and the boy was shaking.  _ God, he couldn’t lose him now, could he? _   
  


“A man can,” the boy looks at Goro, not wanting to see the cold expression on his face, the eyes that are nothing but wilted flowers, but he continues and he can see him just enough, “only have so much of home before he leaves for another. But there are instances where he doesn’t want to leave at all, and yet he did, because he’s a  _ stupid idiot _ who thought home would leave him before he could.”

“Akira-”   
  


“Tell me, Goro, was it painful knowing you woke up on a cold bed with the curtains closed and the space next to you empty? Because it was rather painful knowing the pancakes I cooked that day on the table were left uneaten. So, um… Goro, I’m…” Akira closes his eyes, he can’t  _ break _ now, “...I’m sorry doesn’t cut anything at all, does it?”

“Listen, you big,  _ big, big, _ dumb fool…” 

Akira gives in to that fond tone of Goro that he uses when he talks to Morgana or when he’s met with Akira and his childish fantasies and runs towards his heart.

“Akira,” Goro whispers, and the other boy leans forward even more, on the crook of Goro’s neck, hands having long dropped the bouquet to wrap itselves around the warm body Akira couldn’t still believe he was able to let go of that morning before, and he whimpers. “Akira, listen closely, m’kay?

“Beneath the floor mat outside, there’s an envelope addressed to you. I know you know it’s there, you’ve stepped on it, and inside is a spare key to this apartment that I have made for you. I know it’s hard, I know it’s frightening-”

“Goro, don’t say anything else.”

For a moment, it was simply their breaths that Akira hears.

“Don’t say anything else. Don’t tell me anything. I… I refuse to hear anything, because I don’t want to know how much a fool I’ve made of myself all these months I could’ve had you, and because I don’t want to let you have me here only after being met with the desperation that I can’t let you go knowing you could’ve had me before.”

Goro stills.  _ His routine. His home. His rival. _

_ His everything. _

“Then let me have you now, Akira. As cheesy as it may sound like, you’ve always had me. It’s my turn for our little baton pass, don’t you think?”


End file.
